


Now Let Me See

by WhimperSoldier



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Lifegaurd AU, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, kinda dark later on, white collar au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimperSoldier/pseuds/WhimperSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various prompts, stories, and ideas focused on my two favorite nerds.</p>
<p>Chapter 7: Damen works at Bath and Body Works and Laurent works at the Hot Topic across the mall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lifeguard AU

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a guy at my local waterpark who reminded me of Laurent and reminded me I have a few prompts and sorry ideas that need a home, thus this is born, enjoy.

For all of its shortcomings, the pool was a good ten degrees cooler than his and Laurent’s apartment so when it came time for him to chose between lounging around a muggy room on a secondhand couch or along a wave pool with an overly large umbrella, the decision was simple. Auguste had taken the position of head lifeguard after their separation from their Uncle and with this role came many responsibilities he loved to repeat to his brother anytime his rotation happened to fall on the long stretch of concrete where Laurent had chosen to set up shop with his array of drinks, snacks, and books.

Laurent’s strategic placement, he claimed, was so that the sun would never touch his face but Auguste knew that was only half the reason, the other half being the short-shorts of the local flag football captain Damen, another lifeguard who worked along the opposite side of the pool, who always stood with his back to the sun and thus, his butt facing Laurent. The stretches of time when the lifeguards took turns taking a dip during break, resulting in a dripping wet specimen of a man climbing majestically out of the pool facing Laurent was also just coincidence. Laurent denied watching the droplets slide tantalizingly slow down his rich brown abs, Laurent's words exactly. Well over six feet and with muscle for miles, even straight men might see the appeal and for Laurent, the beefcake was the perfect distraction from their shitty living conditions and their even shittier life outlook. Which was why, against every big brother bone in his body, he ribbed Laurent about his crush to the point that his sibling struck up a conversation with the captain every time he passed by, out of spite Auguste assumed. Damen humored him, his little brother in an overly large sun hat and ridiculous sunglasses slathered in cheap sunscreen was no match to the towering blonde who drove Damen to and from work. It was a crush, pure and simple and so innocent it was harmless in Auguste's eyes.

Their banter gave Laurent time to sharpen his already killer wit and Damen was too sweet to ever take it to heart, a win-win. It was friendly and well meaning which was why it was mind-blowing when Auguste returned home early from a first date gone wrong to find the two necking on the couch like teenagers. He’s hoped Laurent would stand up and proclaim it was all a trick, that some piece of lint had given away his date’s inability to hold her liquor, and that this was all an elaborate set-up to knock some sense into his big brother. He did no such thing, instead turning his head so that the hastily tied bun slid down his neck that was peppered with pink marks. _Karma’s a bitch, big brother_ Laurent hissed, rubbing absentmindedly at the hickies dotting his throat, referring to the time he caught his older sibling in a compromising situation, and position, in their shared shower, and ignoring the angry tirade Auguste was trying to hold back.

 _It’s not serious_ Laurent muttered _he wont last long_ he said and then ate his words when Damen stuck around for months that turned into years that turned into him giving a best man speech at Auguste’s wedding. _Karma’s a bitch, baby brother_ he whispered into Laurent’s hair as they shuffled around the dance floor while Damen twirled his bride around in looping circles. He said it again in the doorway of their newly purchased apartment, Damen’s name written in precise letters next to Laurent’s on the lease which Damen had framed for over the mantle. Again at their Christmas party where Damen forced an ugly sweater on his boyfriend and languished sweet kisses on his cheek at least once an hour. He said it for the last time as they again moved in awkward tandem on the dance floor, this time with Laurent’s ring finger lined with a simple ring he would never admit to love watch twinkle in the light. _karma’s a bitch, baby brother._


	2. College AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent would deny it with every bone in his body: he did not have a crush on the new languages professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh these nerds are fun to write.

Laurent would deny it with every bone in his body: he did not have a crush on the new languages professor.

It was not completely his fault considering said professor was well over six feet tall and muscled like an Olympian. The tight shirts he wore and the friendly way he taught his classes did little to stop the budding obsession either. Laurent, the PA to the English department in general, found that while crushing on a professor was weird, as long as it was neither his professor nor in his department, it was completely fine.

Nicaise disagreed, loudly and vocally.

“He’s like a million years old,” he muttered while dabbing concealer under his eyes and a skirl of glitter over each lid. “What’s his degree in anyway, tight shirts?”

“It's in multiethnic languages and tell me, what is your major again?” Laurent hissed, flipping through a magazine he hadn't seen Damen reading no he was _just suddenly interested in western architecture, ok Nacaise?_

“You know I'm a fourth year undecided, you bitch,” he muttered, no real heat behind the words. He finished his makeup and winked at his reflection before throwing his bag over his shoulder and doing a little shimmy for Laurent and heading for the door. “Good luck with your guy problems, I'm go get laid by my wonderfully hung boyfriend and think of your poor blue balled self while doing it.”

“You think of me while having sex with your boyfriend,” Laurent raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “Does he know that?”

It got him a stuck out tongue but also a laugh, so he figured the only damage done was that he was no closer to figuring out the enigma that was the dark skinned god that was currently haunting Laurent’s many dirty dreams.

This left very few options open to him but Laurent, being the sly and clever man he was, made it his semester’s mission to get Damen, buff, beautiful Damen, to notice him.

Laurent, for all of his snark, found it easy enough to pick up guys in the college town. Some wanted to try it for a night, others were so far in the closet they might have called themselves Narnian but so few of them kept Laurent’s interest after the night and the few who did, always managed to squeeze their way into the exclusive group of Laurent’s friends but never more. Meaning when Damen, witty and wonderful Damen, winked at him over the pile of books in the library, Laurent was hooked and all of his normal plans went out the window.

From there, Laurent planed everyone of their meetings down to a tee. Laurent’s best lighting was at 6:30 a night so they conviently ran into each other and chatted for a few minutes before Laurent remembered he had somewhere to be and something to do, that somewhere being his apartment and that something being nervously thinking about every word that had been said between them.

Laurent got a cat because Damen walked his dog and it was only when they bumped into each other in the park, did anyone inform him that cats don't need walks but that Damen, sweet and sincere Damen, thought it was cute. But he said it while looking right at Laurent, maybe he thinks Laurent it cute. He blushes anyway.

They meet unexpectedly at a local dive bar and Damen, kind and caring Damen, introduced Laurent to his friends. One, big like Damen but with close cropped hair and an earring takes one look then snorts into his watered down beer. Damen ignores him and the warm brown of his cheeks flare slightly pink under Laurent’s stare. He counts it as a win.

He’s invited out to the movies with friends and then only ends up seeing it with Damen. Laurent invites him over for supper with Nicaise and his roommate asks who bottoms. Damen said he does. Laurent realized they might have been dating.

When Laurent wake up the next morning, half naked and warm from the arm over his back, he thinks they must have been dating for a while.

Months after they have been dating a while Damen admits to fearing Laurent only had a crush on him because he was a professor so Laurent smacks him on the stomach.

“I was only dating you for your abs and that tight ass of yours,” Laurent muttered sleepily into Damen’s shoulder and his whole body vibrates with the strength of Damen, warm and soft Damen, laughing.


	3. Historic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every word he sent was a story, every sentence a myth, he was writing himself into history as the beautiful bird caged by a beast and nothing tasted sweeter than the power he wielded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been catching up on a lot of Game of Thrones and I just kinda wrote this. Goes well with the soundtrack #3 Light of the Seven fyi.

When the raven arrived the whole of the court was up in titters. Little bird Laurent married off to the despicable barbarians, what a poor boy he was to be a whore to those uncouth monsters, how sad his life was to be in the arms of a uncivilized husband.

How clever he was on their wedding night, feigning sickness and chills until he realized those sly lion eyes were almost as keen as his. It was a war unlike any Laurent had before faced, waged on a field made up of silk and fur, their bed was the bloodiest of battlegrounds. 

He could almost taste the power on his tongue when Damen, the brutish man he was, tumbled breathless onto the bed, his breath heavy and his eyes lidded. It was a rush unlike anything he had before faced in the quiet court his brother kept. It was a drug, a quickening of the blood that brought him back every night, taking and taking before riding the high. He wished he could see those courtier’s waspish faces when the little bird held a lion between his thighs.

He got letters occasionally. Well wishes glossing over nasty hidden meanings under honied words, Laurent could almost feel the macabre yearning the writers felt when penning each delicate word and responded in kind. How rough Damen could be, his hands like steel around his wrists, the burn of fabric along his back from friction, the bruising along the wings of his back from the harsh stone of their tents. He relished the feeling of power over them. Every word he sent was a story, every sentence a myth, he was writing himself into history as the beautiful bird caged by a beast and nothing tasted sweeter than the power he wielded.

His uncle, a twisted man he had never met, was king along the craggy mountains to the north. It was almost enjoyable to kiss the ideas into Damen’s skin, grind the plans into his bones, push the outcome into his beautiful mind.

Like a choreographed symphony, his uncle’s armies full under foot until Laurent, in armor as golden as the sun emblazoned across his flag, marched into the throne room and lobbed the old man’s head off. The blood felt warm under his nails and while the final chords played, he could feel every beat like drums in his head, following his conducting to the finale.

The celebrations were vicious and wild, wine and women, slick streets and warm bodies, it was a visceral moment of convivial pride played out on a monumental scale. It was simple to pull Damen into the twisting labyrinth of the castle and into the highest tower crafted of the darkest stone. It was even simpler to push Damen onto the floor, to curl blood encrusted fingers into his gory mane and twist until the lion showed his teeth in a cruel smile.

They sent a bird into a lion’s den knowing the odds, but Laurent remembers reading about a spindly legged crow who perched in the teeth of beasts, unharmed and thriving, smart and clever and quick. He was the crow, living among beasts, with a beast in his bed and a beast in his heart and a beast in his head.

He was a bird in a den of lions and he sends his brother letters, huge blocks of paper filled with neat print in their native tongue talking of his conquering and his victories. He can tell from his replies that he worries, not for his brother but of what his brother has become.

Laurent can feel the yearning in the pit of his stomach, a gut-clenching ache that is only abetted by his king husband or the sound of returning armies, their calls of victory echoing off the tall walls. He climbs to the highest tower on nights when the moon is large. His land spreads as far as his eye can see and when he is feeling particularly bold, fueled by lust for man or victory, he imagines his little bird body being flung out into the night sky, becoming a star in the gleaming network of constellations.

Damen pulls him away from the ledge to send him over a different cliff between the sheets of their shared bed but sometimes, when it is so dark not even the flames of the surrounding towns can be seen through the darkness, Laurent can throw his head back and feel the wind ruffle his feathers and flutter along his face and remember the overwhelming exhilaration that comes with true freedom.

Laurent is a bird in the mouth of a lion and he has never been stronger.


	4. White Collar AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, lover.” Laurent hissed, pressing his chin into the cup of his hands and flashing his most devastating smile. The harsh lines of Damen’s face gave Laurent the information he needed. “Well, for a special agent you don’t seem to be having a very special day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love White Collar so this was the natural progression of things.

The charges wouldn't hold. Bond forgery was tricky business but they had to pick very carefully what they wanted to charge him with, too much and he would be off for lack of evidence, too little and he would walk from insignificant reason to hold him.

Special Agent Damon Aikelios was a step above the rest though, Laurent had been on the beat for years with no one in the Fed world the wiser, enter rookie cadet who picked his work out of the crowd. Smart man. Pretty man.

Pretty man who was currently sitting along the wall of the visitor area filling out a three piece suit beautifully. Laurent said as much to throw the special agent off and get his dark cheeks to flush red. It was an advantage, something he was sorely lacking of lately in the police holding cell.

“Hello, lover.” Laurent hissed, pressing his chin into the cup of his hands and flashing his most devastating smile. The harsh lines of Damen’s face gave Laurent the information he needed. “Well, for a special agent you don’t seem to be having a very special day.”

“Your old partner has been pulling jobs without you, DeVere.” He frowned and slid a folder across the table within reach of his cuffed hands. He pulled the glossy pictures out, expecting jewlery, bonds, paintings, not the face of a dead man, his pale skin pulled taut across bone. “A guard killed at his latest heist. Sixty-eight. He was retiring next month to go live down in Florida with his grandkids.”

“Nicaise wouldn’t do this,” Laurent hissed, his good mood cutting off and the sickening guilt rise up, threatening to drown him.

“I know.” Laurent’s head snapped up, confused. “I think he fell back in with your uncle. He has no problem killing for what he wants.”

“It took months to get him out of there, Nicase wouldn’t just get back into bed with him,” He cursed his wording and bit his tongue. “I can talk him down, I can get him to turn state's evidence if you just get me the chance to talk to him.”

Laurent was not going to plead but the conversation was slipping into dangerous territory and he wasn’t too keen on losing ground.

“You didn't look at the rest of the file.” Damen smiled, a little uptick at the corner of his mouth that made his face seem friendlier. Laurent masked his anger and flipped the folder open. The bulk was made up of signed lines and legalise type. Laurent dropped down the bottom to see the swooping signature of the District Attorney.

“You have the DA in your pocket now?” He muttered, flipping through the pages until a line caught his eye and his breath hitched in his throat. “Monitored release?”

“Yup, ankle monitor but other than that, free and clear to help the FBI with whatever it, and I, need,” His mouth split into a wide grin, the warm brown of his lips framing his perfect teeth. Damen tapped the last page, blank but for a single line, pulling a gilded pen from inside his suit and clicking it one before sitting it in front of Laurent. “Your sentence will be reduced and no prison time, plus.”

Laurent frowned, running a delicate finger across the pen, noting the expensive engraving along the cap, a gift from a lady friend perhaps? He signed, frowning a bit more and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“If I didn’t know any better I might think your very unfair deal was because of that wonderful night in Morocco,” Laurent plucked the pen up and twirled it between his fingers, watching the beautiful blush paint the agent’s cheeks. “Did our magical escapade ever make it into the reports?”

“This is a one time offer DeVere, once I leave, it’s off the table.” The sly smile was gone, the sharp edge to his voice back. He stood, the file snapping shut before being slid into a briefcase. Damen made his way to the door. “You seem to think me incompetent so might as well wish me luck in locating your uncle.” The hinges creaked open. Damen threw a questioning look over his shoulder. “You can keep the pen.”

The door hadn't even shut before Laurent called out, his face red and his ego bruised.

“Wait!” Damen walked back inside pulling out the single sheet of paper, laying it down on the table. Laurent signed it with a flourish, snapping the pen down. Damon nodded, digging around in his pocket before tossing a small key to Laurent.

When the handcuffs were off and the ring of irritation had faded from Laurent’s pale skin, he followed Damen down the hallway and out the door. The air smelled softer than he remembered but the thought of anyone shacking up with his uncle sent a shiver down his spine. He took one look at the beast of a man off to his side, obnoxiously plush mouth pulled into a smile while conversing over the phone, and slid into the passenger side of the standard FBI car.


	5. Best Men AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Auguste’s defence, there was no way he could have known how Laurent went to blow off steam in one of the college town’s many clubs, met a sexy brunette he decided to go home with before rushing out on him before the sun was up.
> 
> The bite in the ass came when Laurent didn’t connect the dots of Sexy-Brunette-Damen-Who-Does-That-Thing-With-His-Tongue with Brother-Auguste's-Best Friend/Best-Man-Damianos.
> 
> Who was now sitting across the table from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well these two dweebs practically write themselves.
> 
> Hope everyone had a safe halloween and thanks to everyone to left kudos and comments!

Laurent was going to kill his brother, slow and painful, because this was the lunch from hell.

In Auguste’s defence, there was no way he could have known how Laurent went to blow off steam in one of the college town’s many clubs, met a sexy brunette he decided to go home with before rushing out on him before the sun was up.

The bite in the ass came when Laurent didn’t connect the dots of Sexy-Brunette-Damen-Who-Does-That-Thing-With-His-Tongue with Brother-Auguste's-Best Friend/Best-Man-Damianos.

Who was now sitting across the table from him.

Laurent took another swig of wine.

“So, _Damen_ -” Laurent swallowed thickly, ignoring the burn before tucking his cloth napkin into the cross of his legs. “I hear you set-up quite a bit of the wedding for my dear brother?”

“Oh, yes, picked a lovely club for the bachelor party last night, Delfur, ever heard of it?” Damianos smiled politely, his lips pulled across perfectly white teeth. “I’m sorry you were feeling too under the weather to come but you missed your brother here belting out karaoke before calling his fiance because he missed her too much. I met a lovely blond but, sadly my bed was empty this morning, and I do so love making breakfast.”

Laurent choked on his wine but was saved by his brother hissing at the cafe’s tall windows. He wore sunglasses inside, his eye bloodshot and his voice thick. Laurent wondered if the only thing stopping Auguste from understanding their doublespeak was his massive hangover.

“Did you ever stop to think about what the blond wanted? Maybe a nice fuck before something important?” The ice in his voice caught his brother’s attention and he raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, a shade darker than his own. Laurent backtracked. “I’m just saying, you don’t seem like the master when it comes to communication.”

“Really, would you like to hear more of my lover’s woes?” Damen asked, the first time Laurent had heard anything approaching venom in his voice. “We had a nice conversation before, deep, meaningful, and exciting. I tell the blond I would like to see him again and bam, gone.”

Laurent could see the instant his brother made the connection from Damianos’ mistake. The one little pronoun and already Auguste’s eyes were wide and his jaw was almost in his coffee cup. Laurent could feel his cheeks flaming and from where Damen’s gaze settled, he would bet money on his ears turning pink too.

“Oh my god, did my best man sleep with my brother slash other best man because I can not deal with this with a hangover,” Laurent was about to defend himself, but the sad tilt to Damen's mouth made the words turn sour on his tongue and the almost watery quality to his eyes made his reserved heart want to pound out of his chest. 

“Yes, your best men slept together and you had better stay at your wife’s house tonight because they will be having make-up sex on the couch,” Laurent took a delicate sip from his cup before shotgunning it and took an almost primal glee from the grunt of hope from Damen and the scoff of disgust from his brother.

“I’m going to see my fiance on our wedding night because my brother can’t keep it in his pants,” August just sighed, giving a slight head nod, as if they needed his approval. They both slid out of the booth, flushes high on their cheeks, and made their way down the road to the apartment. August just heaved another sigh, took a drink of his coffee, and pressed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose to watch the people walk by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out or hit me up with ideas on my tumblr: http://whimper-soldier.tumblr.com


	6. Spies AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took a deep breath and straightened the table clothes he had put out. They were from their wedding reception. The golden detail of his and Laurent’s initials in the napkins seemed stupid now in the lowlight of an empty table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with the semester and feeling motivated to write, it's like a blue moon, rare and not likely to happen again soon.

Damen always wanted to see the best in people. It was a personality flaw, sure, but it also led to him meeting the most wonderful people. People like his husband.

Anyone else would have never allowed the blond bombshell into their room in a crappy artisanal hovel in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but Damen figured the man was in need of some kindness and went so far as to offer him coffee from his strangely tinted coffee pot.

Two weeks later after a whirlwind romance, they married in a small chapel with two observers pulled off the street. It was one the happiest days of his life.

So Damen would normally call his forgiveness a gift and sure, he took up cooking and morning yoga and the hobby of knitting, but Damen assumed Laurent thought it was cute that he was become domestic after almost ten years of marriage.

But Damen had been wrong before.

It was a joke, the app, to find Laurent’s phone even though he never misplaced it. Damen liked to use it to decide when to start dinner and surprise Laurent on their anniversary, mundane but romantic things that felt spoiled now. Damen found it on accident, listed under the “frequently visited” box in a small corner of the app’s main menu, the hotel on the shadier side of town and a ten minute drive from their house in the suburbs. 

Damen wanted to brush it off, but Laurent had been going to the same hotel once every two weeks. His lock screen, Laurent pressing a kiss to his smooshed cheek, still glowed with the text Laurent had sent over an hour ago saying he had to work late, that he had to fucking work late.

The little things started making more sense. Laurent would come home some nights, exhausted beyond his desk job and once with a small red smear along the collar of his work shirt. Damen hoped it might have been a food stain but turned out to be ruby red lipstick rubbed into the inside fold of fabric. Damen wondered if Laurent knew he found it, this little love note from whoever waited for him in that love hotel.

Damen wanted to be angry, to throw all of Laurent’s things from the second story of their house. He had too many breakup songs rigged up on his phone from his three year mess with Jokaste and while they might be slightly outdated, he was sure the sentiment would be the same. He wanted to change the locks or maybe go to his brothers, no wait, he would go to Laurent’s brother’s. Auguste would be furious at Laurent and Damen almost wanted to see the shock on his face-

He took a deep breath and straightened the table clothes he had put out. They were from their wedding reception. The golden detail of his and Laurent’s initials in the napkins seemed stupid now in the lowlight of an empty table.

Damen got up slowly, blowing out the candles and picking up the scattered rose petals. He was leaning heavily on the back of their dining room chairs, chairs they picked out together, when the front door rattled open. Laurent stumbled in, only briefly leaning heavily on the door frame.

Damen almost forgot his anger in the face of Laurent’s wide-eyed fear. Laurent was out of breath, almost unheard of for him, looking wildly around the room as if he was scanning for anything incriminating. He focused in on the set table, decorated beautifully, done up to mimic their wedding reception a week early to surprise him. It was here that he paused.

“Are you ok?” Laurent asked, moving slowly to Damen like he was afraid he might run. “Sweetheart?”

“How fucking dare you?” Damen froze, the whisper slipping out and dripping with hurt. He could feel the tell-tale pricking at the corners of his eyes and wanted to rub furiously at them. Laurent flinched, raising his hands like he was taming a lion. Damen didn't know to be offended or furious. “You think you can lie to me for this long and just walk in here and make everything fine, sweetheart?”

“I know you’re mad but we have to-” He stopped, eyes focusing on something just over Damen’s shoulder. Nope, now he was just insulted. He moved to wrap his arms around his stomach but the sound of shattering glass was ringing out in the kitchen and a sharp pain in his arm caused him to cry out and Laurent to sprint to his side before pushing him into the kitchen island.

It was like an out of body experience and it was only when the ringing in his ears stopped that he realized what had slimmed his arm was a bullet and that there was a line of holes in the wall where they both were standing just moments ago.

Damen started screaming, uncontrollably and with great enthusiasm if Laurent’s startled reaction was anything to go by. Laurent scrambled over and shoved his hand over Damen’s mouth, glaring at him before placing a finger to his own mouth in the universal sign for silence but unfortunately his finger was connected to a hand that was holding a gun that sent Damen into hysteric, if muffled, cries.

His noises of confusion only escalated as a dark dressed man swung into the room and pointed a long barrel into their faces. Damen was seconds away from pissing himself in the middle of his kitchen when Laurent’s hand shot out and twisted the gun to the side before shoving it backwards with enough force to send the man into the wall. Laurent tore a knife from the wood block on the counter and slashed out in a large arch before sinking it into the man’s neck. Damen was screaming but the only thing coming out was broken squeaks and the occasional voice break.

“Damen I love you but if you don't be quiet if will punch you,” Laurent warned without look at him. He was looking both to the hallway leading to the front door and the small alcove sheltering the back door. He seemed to come to some decision before he moved in a single fluid motion and tugged Damen with him. He emptied a small pile of bullets from a box taped to the underside of their island into the dirty frying pan. Damen absurdly wondered if Laurent would have liked the hand grilled tilapia currently splattered across the dining room floor like a macabre Pollock painting. 

Laurent spun the dial to high before they shuffled to the back door and Laurent kicked it outward while keeping a hand tangled in Damen’s shirt like a poor man’s leash. Laurent raised his gun and shot out into the neighbor's bushes just as Damen found his voice.

“Not the hedges!” Damen screamed as Laurent tore open the door to Damen’s little coup. Laurent’s midsize was parked haphazard in the yard and had a line of swat men propping their ridiculously large guns on the chocolate-collared hood. The house erupted into a chorus of bullets and the men opened fire on the house just as Laurent threw his small car into gear and they tore out into the road and almost into Diana From Down the Street’s minivan driving the opposite direction.

Damen heard screaming as the sharp turn sent his little car onto two wheels and it was only as he slumped back into his seat after impact that he realized it was himself doing the screaming.

The cries abruptly ended because his body had moved onto hyperventilating. His chest felt like it might compress his lungs but Laurent was turning down back roads like he didn't have blood on his hands. Damen’s thoughts turned to the lipstick stains he now thought could have very easily been arterial blood. 

“Damen, baby, can you breathe?” Laurent asked, voice a controlled tone. Damen scoffed, taking a few big huffs before grunting in the only way he could think of to get his point across without crying again. “Use your words, barbarian.”

“Guns? I was thinking some pretty rentboy but no I get guns and a dead man in our kitchen, the kitchen we just remodeled I'll remind you, Christ, this is shit Laurent!” As if his mouth was making up for lost time, he couldn't shut up as he spilled ever thought that crossed his mind. “Fuck I knew you were too good to be true, fuck, see this is what Nik warned me about, I mean obviously not this exact situation because fuck but I mean the whole lies thing because this is fucked up Laurent!”

He went on like this for a few minutes until he was reduced to making small panicked noises in the back of his throat.

“Damen,” Laurent started, merging flawlessly with incoming traffic that was heading out of town. Damen wanted to say something, had so many questions bouncing around his skull, but he couldn't seem to get his lips to cooperate. Laurent sighed then laughed without humor. "You thought I was being unfaithful?"

They sat in complete silence as they exited the interstate and moved to a single gravel lane pretending to be a road. Damen felt like he was in a horror movie and the fear of dying in the woods distracted him from the fear of being murdered by his psychopathic killer husband who sat in stoic silence the entire ride to his death cabin.

“Stop looking like I'm here to kill you, if I wanted you dead I could have left you with my uncle’s men,” Laurent exited the car with a grace given exclusively to models and Lady Gaga. “I can see your emotions on your face, Damianos.”

“What the fuck?” He hissed, foot half out of his car and suddenly fucking pissed and no longer afraid of his five foot five boyfriend. “You think all this shit is just hunky dory but it's not ok Laurent, sorry I didn't realize you kill people, what are you a Russian spy, do I need to learn how the Soviet national anthem for when you get recalled?”

“Don't be stupid, you know what the cold does to my hair,” Laurent muttered while dodging the question like someone trained to do just that like a Russian spy. “The less you know the better.”

“You don't get to decide that!” Damen yelled, following him into the tidy cabin. “I have a right to know why I was getting shot at in my own home and my husband goes to a shady hotel every two weeks!”

That stopped Laurent and he turned around to fire something back, his face tight and cruel that way it gets when something truly hurts him, but his scowl melted as he caught slight of Damen’s thigh.

“Did you get shot?” Laurent asked rushing over to twist Damen around to look at his leg. Damen wanted to laugh it off but he did notice a twinge of pain in his upper thigh that he hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment or in the tense drive out of town. It got steadily more painful until Damen looked over his shoulder, as if he could see the bullet.

“I didn't get shot, I would have felt-” A sharp pin prick nicked his neck and Damen’s head whipped around to stare, confused, at Laurent. He had a small pen needle in his hand and a concerned frown on his beautiful mouth. 

“You still think I'm beautiful?” Laurent asked as Damen slumped into Laurent’s deceptively toned arms before being lowered slowly on his stomach onto the folding couch. Damen wanted to wax poetry about the delicate bow of his lips and the curve of his his neck that led to the soft curls at the base of Laurent’s neck. Based on the blush curling around the sweet line of his ear, Damen had said all of that out loud too. “Yes but I prefer compliments more than your implication that I would ever cheat on you.”

Damen smiled softly at Laurent’s red cheeks as he crouched down on the floor to be eye level with Damen. He reached a clumsy hand out to brush his fingers across Laurent’s bruised knuckles as he tried to unwrap gauze and swabs and a truly monstrous pair of pliers from an old first aid kit.

“You just never told me anything I just thought maybe,” Damen stopped the drugs loosening his tongue to the point that he wanted to spill all of his secrets like when he nicked Mrs. Nickels car but blamed it on the hard-working garbage men to avoid trouble. He laughed lightly but groaned when it jostled his body. “Maybe you started to fall out of love with me, and before you interrupt, you have been pulling away, and I figured I finally did it.”

“What?” Laurent asked, his face hard signifying he knew exactly the answer Damen had.

“That I finally started to bore you. You warned me that night in that hostel that you would leave at the first sign that I was no longer interesting. I mean goddamn it Laurent do you think I wore that lingerie set last month for my own comfort-”

“I didn't think those panties were just to show off your impressive sexual prowess in the bedroom.” Laurent grabbed at Damen’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm before pressing it softly to his cheek. Damen sighed again and laughed slightly, trying not to move. 

“Laurent?” Damen asked a moment later.

“Yes, lover?” Laurent replied.

“Is the bullet in my ass going to limit my impressive sexual prowess?”

Laurent’s laugh echoed in the small cabin and was the sweetest sound Damen had heard in months


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen works at Bath and Body Works and Laurent works at Hot Topic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH I have never once stepped foot in a Hot Topic

Laurent sighed and restocked the galaxy leggings next to to a rack of truly hideous Star Wars shirts. He tried to avoid looking out the windows and into the storefront across the mall but failed when he walked out, perfect smile in place and hands tucked into the horrendous vomit green colored apron.

Damen was beautiful in the ugliest uniform known to man, the polo sleeves short enough that his arms flexed every time he gestured to the store and the khaki pants that were sinfully tight. Laurent over reached, pushing the mannequin into the window before he could catch it and causing the set of keychains displayed to rattle.

Damen looked over, raising his arm in a wave and ignoring the squad of moms that had spotted him and hustled over to gush over the sale sign in his hands. Laurent hoped the dark lighting would be enough to hide the blush that crawled up his face as he raced back to the counter to rearrange the assorted magnets.

Apparently it was not, because Damen came into the shop exactly one hour before Laurent was to get off, hair a mass of styled curls that softened his frankly ridiculous jawline.

“Hey, Laurent, right?” He asked, his cheek dimpling adorably. Laurent scowled at the indent and caused said smile to dim.

“Can I help you find something?” Laurent asked, standing and smoothing out his faux satanic Beyonce t-shirt. “I can’t be sure we stock for your size but I’m willing to try if you are.”

He laughed and Laurent felt like his heart was pressing up against the back of his ribs. The blank face he had hoped to hold throughout their encounter fell into a befuddled blush that not even complete darkness would be enough to hide. 

“It’s just that- I thought maybe you might want to… maybe, if you had time-” Damen stuttered, pressing his hands to the back of his neck in a signature awkward gesture that pulled up the hem of his too short shirt to showcase the true perfection of his abs.

“Go on a date?” Laurent finished, deciding that he would put the poor man out of his misery and that he might as well do the same for himself.

“Yeah!” Damen laughed again, just as boisterous and wild as the first time. His cheek dimpled and up close Laurent wanted to press his finger to it, maybe slowly turn his head to the side and kiss him. Many times. Many, many times. Many, many places, too.

“I get off in an hour,” Laurent said and watched as Damen nodded, looking round for something to sit on and wait out his shift. Instead, Laurent grabbed his ridiculous collared shirt and pulled his head down so he could whisper in Damen’s ear. “But if you want, I might be able to get off sooner, say, in the back of the storage room?”

Laurent raised an eyebrow and Damen’s cheek dimpled in a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @ whimper-soldier


End file.
